


Secret Shopper

by fulldaysdrive, Jadesfire



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Charles needs all the help he can get, Gen, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-13 16:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11763897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulldaysdrive/pseuds/fulldaysdrive, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesfire/pseuds/Jadesfire
Summary: Their eyes met over the bathroom accessories.





	Secret Shopper

**Author's Note:**

> The music featured in this podfic is "Shopping" by Barenaked Ladies.

  
**Download links:  
**   
[mp3](http://fulldaysdrive.parakaproductions.com/podfics/B99%20-%20Secret%20Shopper.mp3)                                 | 14 MB | Running Time: 00:19:46  
[mp3  (without music)](http://fulldaysdrive.parakaproductions.com/podfics/B99%20-%20Secret%20Shopper%20\(no%20music\).mp3)       | 13 MB | Running Time: 00:17:52

 [podbook](http://fulldaysdrive.parakaproductions.com/podfics/B99%20-%20Secret%20Shopper.m4b)                          | 14 MB | Running Time: 00:19:46  
 [podbook (without music)](http://fulldaysdrive.parakaproductions.com/podfics/B99%20-%20Secret%20Shopper%20\(no%20music\).m4b) | 13 MB | Running Time: 00:17:52  
  


* * *

Their eyes met over the bathroom accessories. 

He raised his eyebrows.

She scowled.

He looked down at the pile of towels, where they were both reaching for the same duck egg blue face cloth. 

She carried on scowling. 

He pulled his hand back, letting her take the top washcloth and put it in her basket. She already had a nice vase, several beautiful picture frames and a few boxes that probably held equally tasteful items. 

He looked down at his own basket which currently held three cork mats and a rather sad bunch of artificial flowers. When he looked up again, she was still scowling at him, but as that was Rosa's ground state of being, he didn't let it bother him too much.

"So," Charles said, inching a little closer to the display stand. "Doing some shopping, are we?"

"No." The basket disappeared behind Rosa's back. "You're the one doing shopping things. Like a stupid shopping person."

Undaunted, Charles raised an eyebrow. "Oh no, you do not get to put me off like that. This is a shop, and you are shopping."

The scowl deepened, but after a second, the basket reappeared. "Okay, fine. Happy now?"

"Oh, Rosa." Charles sighed. "I will not be happy until you show me each and every thing you are buying. Your apartment was amazing."

"It used to be." Swinging the basket in front of her, Rosa set off at a brisk pace that Charles had to skip-run to match. "After you dorks trashed the place, I had to start all over."

"Yeah, that was such a shame, but I guess you have the chance to redecorate."

Rosa came to such a sudden stop in front of the pot pourri that Charles nearly tripped over his own feet trying not to run into her. "Redecorate?" She turned and poked a finger right into the centre of his tie. "Thanks to you guys, I had to wipe all traces of myself from the entire place, and I actually liked that apartment. Do you know how long it takes to make sure no DNA is left behind?"

"Yes, well," Charles hissed, "at least you didn't have to move all the way to Florida." He half-choked on the last word.

That got Rosa to back off a little and she looked him up down, nodding mostly to herself. "Fair. Sorry."

Charles sniffed, blinking a little. As he tried to pull himself back together, Rosa surveyed his basket. 

"What the hell are you buying?"

"What? Oh." He looked down at his slightly pathetic purchases so far. "Genevieve is sort of nesting while we wait for Nicolaj to arrive."

" _Genevieve_ is." She didn't frame it as a question, but he heard it anyway.

"Well. I might be a little too." He got a better grip on the basket with both hands. "Anyway. She wanted me to come and get some things to brighten up his room. And maybe the living room too. And possibly our bedroom while I was at it."

"Is that what the cork mats are for? No." She held up a hand to stop him. "Do not answer that question so I don't have to stuff a face cloth in your mouth." Reaching down, she picked up the artificial flowers he'd chosen. "Do you honestly think that adding these to your apartment is going to improve it? At best, your new son will just burst into tears."

He was almost afraid to ask, but couldn't have stopped himself for all the _po cha_ in Tibet. "And at worst?"

"He will try to burn it to the ground in disgust." She held the flowers at eye level for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then she wrenched the basket from his hands, stuck the flowers back into it and tossed the whole thing over into the next aisle. "Come on," she said. "This is clearly not something you can do unsupervised."

~

As it turned out, Charles was not going to be allowed any say in what he bought. After describing the apartment in general to Rosa-

_("We could go over there, so you can see it, if you want."_

_"Then I would know where you live.")_

-he found himself in the middle of the soft furnishings. Under different circumstances, he could have thought of it as a comforting pillow fort. With Rosa ploughing her way through the aisles, it felt more like the fort was under siege. 

After thrusting a pile of pillows almost as tall as him into his arms, she steered him down to the couch display at the end.

"Right," she said, "which one of these is closest in colour to your couch."

"Uh…" As he couldn't actually see through the pile of pillows, Charles had no idea. But Rosa also hadn't said he could put them down. He heard her sigh, then something jabbed him in the ribs, doubling him over and sending pillows flying. 

"Pay attention." Rosa picked up a pillow in each hand and waved them at the couches. "Which one?" He managed to point in the general direction of a couch similar to his, and while he tried to get his breath back, Rosa strode over to it, dropping one pillow and picking up another as she went. "Get over here."

Once he'd scuttled to her side, still rubbing his ribs, she dropped the two pillows onto the couch. "Okay, color theory for dummies. What you've got to look for are complementary and analogous colours. If you go analogous, things are going to look calm and relaxing. If you go complementary, they're going to be bright and vibrant. What you want is something bright in the lounge so that it catches the eye as you walk in, but soothing in the bedroom when you're trying to get him to sleep."

Somewhere in the middle of that, Charles' mouth had dropped open, and he snapped it shut when Rosa looked over at him. 

"Are you even listening?" she asked.

Charles nodded, looking down at the pillows, then at the sofa. "What if I just like the blue one?"

Turning a little, Rosa shifted closer, looming over him. "This is not about what you like, Charles. This is about getting it right for your family. You want to get it right for your family, don't you?"

Not daring to speak, Charles just nodded. 

"Good." Glancing down at the couch, Rosa tilted her head a little. "Huh. Actually the blue is good. Although not for the bedroom. Don't make it a blue bedroom for a boy. I've only just trained my sisters out of that sexist nonsense. Don't make me start on you."

"Got it. I was thinking…" He hadn't been really thinking anything much, but now he was, he really, really was. "Yellow?"

"That can work," Rosa considered. "What aspect is it?" At his blank look she rolled her eyes. "What direction does it face?"

"The building next door?"

From Rosa's heavy sigh, Charles got the feeling she had resigned herself to a long evening.

~

By the time they reached what Charles always thought of as the knick-knack department, but had the label 'home decoration' and Rosa called 'highlights', he was starting to lose some of the feeling in his fingers thanks to the stupid ropey handles on the shopping bags. He put them down as Rosa came to a stop in front of a shelf of picture frames and tried to massage the feeling back into them.

"Stop doing that, it's distracting," Rosa said, without looking, and Charles made a strangled noise of surprise _(had she heard him? What was she, a bat? Was she Daredevil? The Daredevil of Brooklyn?)_ before she gestured at the frames. Looking up, Charles saw himself reflected about fifty times in all the glass and about a hundred more in the silver-edged frames.

"Isn't it a bit early for picture frames?" he asked, trying not to add, and don't we have enough stuff already?

"No. You want the kid to know what you look like, right?" Rosa shook her head at the stand and moved onto the next one, which looked more or less the same to Charles, but apparently was more satisfying.

One of the bags contained only woollen throws, which were surprisingly heavy, and Charles wondered if she'd notice if he just sat down for a quick nap. 

"Look, if you don't want your kid to care about you, that's up to you," Rosa said, still not looking at him. "But if you do…" She pulled two frames out, one silvered and one painted wood. She waved the silvered one first. "This one is for a picture of you and Genevieve. When he looks at it, he'll see himself reflected along with you, like the new happy family you're going to be. This one," she waved the wooden one, "is for a picture of where he came from, so that he knows you're not cutting him off from his past, you're just giving him a better future. And if you don't stop looking at me like a stunned guppie I'm going to take a third one and-"

"No, I got it." Charles swallowed hard. "Do you really think he'll know all that? About us wanting to give him a better future?"

"Charles, as long as you feed him, drive him around and love him as much as you love everyone else in your life, he's going to have the most amazing childhood any kid could ask for." She stepped a little closer, pushing the frames at him. "And if he's not grateful for that, I will beat it into him." With a final push, she turned and set off in the direction of commemorative stationery.

"Right." With a frame in each hand, Charles looked down at his reflection, hoping he didn't look as stunned as he felt. When it turned out that, yeah, he kind of did, he put the frames in the basket, picked up the bags again, and followed the sound of Rosa shouting his name.

~

He lost Rosa somewhere around the toasters. It didn't bother him too much at first, as he felt on a much surer footing in the kitchen department, this was his happy place, and at least he'd get a few minute's respite from color.

That was, until he turned the corner and saw Rosa about to lift a knife block off the shelf. 

"No." Dropping the bags, hoping the hand-painted ceramic key bowl didn't crack, he marched over and stood between her and the terrible mistake. "Oh no you don't, missy. Not on my watch."

Rosa stared at him, apparently too surprised to even glare. "Missy?"

"You are not buying those knives. Do you have any idea what a block like that does to the blade? I mean, if you want a lifetime of having tomatoes skitter across your kitchen surfaces, be my guest. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Having got some of her composure back, Rosa raised an eyebrow. "They're knives, Charles. There's no such thing as a bad knife."

Wow.

No, really.

Wow.

For a stunned second, Charles just stared at her. The words simply wouldn't form. He swallowed, unclenched his jaw, took a deep breath and tried for calm.

"What-" He broke off, coughing a little to get the ridiculous squeak out of his voice. "No. Let's try this. Why are you buying the knives?"

"To cut things with." Rosa had taken half a step backwards while he was having his little moment, and now she folded her arms across her chest. "Why else would you buy knives?"

That was a whole other question that Charles really didn't want to know Rosa's answer to, so instead he said, "Did you take the ones out of your old apartment?"

"Sure, but that knife block would look better against my new splashback."

Not sure he'd heard right, Charles tipped his head to the side. "I'm sorry, are you buying the knives _for the block_? Do you cook at all? Ever?"

"Sure. All the time. My empanadas actually caused a fight at a family reunion once." She smiled what Charles knew to be her wistful smile, even if it mostly looked like she was remembering all the people she'd killed. "It was awesome."

"Okay, that's good. Sort of. I think." He shook his head, mostly to clear it. "So if you cook at all, why are you buying this terrible knife block, which will ruin your knives, your food and probably, eventually, your life?"

Rosa stepped in closer again. "Do you honestly think that I can't make any knife work for me?" she asked, lowering her voice enough that the hairs on the back of Charles' neck stood on end. Normally, when it came to one or the other, he'd choose flight over fight, but this was his territory she was standing on, and he held his ground.

"I think you're probably great with most sharpened objects. And quite a lot of blunt ones," he said, squaring up to her. "But I think with the right knife, you could be amazing."

Something in the way he said it must have caught her attention, because she lifted her head a little, looking down at him thoughtfully. "Interesting," she said, in the way that meant she was actually thinking about it. "Tell me more."

It was all Charles could do not to do a little baby-lamb leap of joy. "Really?" Before she could answer, he grabbed the shopping bags in one hand, Rosa's arm with the other and started pulling her away from the terrible, awful, no-good knife display. "Well, for a start, you don't want to buy them here…"

This was going to be _brilliant_.

~

Two hours later, they stood on the last corner before their routes parted, Charles trying to massage some feeling back into his fingers while hoping he wasn't going to have a permanent groove from the bags, Rosa still eyeing her own shopping bag with some suspicion.

"I cannot believe I let you talk me into spending over a hundred dollars on a knife," she said. 

"Well, I thought it best to start you out slow," Charles said, shrugging a little. "The universal knife block means you can upgrade them when you're ready for the real thing. And anyway," he added quickly, "since when can any of us talk you into doing anything you don't want to do?"

"True. And the block is nice. Real wood always looks classy, no matter where you put it." With a final glare at the bag, Rosa turned her attention back to him. "Are you sure you can get all those back okay without your arms falling off?"

"I might be scarred for life but I'll manage." Looking down at the heap of shopping on the sidewalk, Charles took a deep breath. "Thanks for the help," he said. "I just hope Nicolaj likes it all."

"Who cares what he thinks? He's just a kid." Rosa swung the bag so that it caught Charles right on the kneecap, which was her version of a friendly arm-around-the-shoulders. Probably. "What matters is that you cared enough to want to do stuff for him, okay?"

"Okay." Bracing himself, Charles picked up the bags again, hoping there was no permanent nerve damage. "You want to come back for a drink? Genevieve's got really into her micro-brewing lately."

"No."

"Or we could go back to yours and I could show you-"

"Hell, no." Rolling her eyes, Rosa set off in the opposite direction to Charles' apartment. "See you at work, Boyle."

Charles watched her go, trying to see if she she went into any of the buildings. She didn't, disappearing around the corner without a backwards look. After a few seconds his phone buzzed and he fumbled it out of his pocket.

_I don't even live in that direction, dummy. Go home._

Ah well, it had been worth a try. Sighing, Charles hefted the bags and set off towards his apartment. Genevieve was going to love the new decor, he just knew it, and he'd managed to slip a little surprise in there for her as well. She was going to love the beet and maitake kimchi, and it had been the last jar in the shop. 

Charles set off for home with as much of a spring in his step as a man carrying five huge shopping bags and a precious jar of gourmet pickled food could manage.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: With thanks to Fulldaysdrive for the original inspiration for this fic, and for getting across exactly what I had in my head!


End file.
